


saltwater

by archersandsunsets



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersandsunsets/pseuds/archersandsunsets
Summary: On the night he plans to throw himself into the ocean, Peeta Mellark meets Katniss Everdeen.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	saltwater

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as a drabble on my tumblr, but I've been encouraged to continue it. I'm hoping to get the whole story told, but I think my audience knows how I am now with WIPs. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. If you'd like to chat, find me at archersandsunsets on tumblr!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was originally explored as a tumblr drabble. I've been encouraged to expand on it. Please have patience as I write, but all feedback is appreciated and welcome. If you'd like to chat, come find me at archersandsunsets on tumblr!
> 
> The chapter titles are Latin phrases, and I've included the translation in parentheses.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have not personally dealt with all the feelings and situations discussed within this work, but I am trying to handle them with care and respect. While this is a work of fiction, I know that there are those whose realities include such thoughts, feelings, or actions. I will try to handle these topics with care and grace. Thank you. Please heed the warnings in the tags if you are triggered. I love you all.

**__ **

**prologue _: praeceptor perimus (drown)_ **

Peeta Mellark breathed in the salt and darkness of the night air, his eyes on the water below. The surf tickled his toes where he sat at the end of the dock, his legs dangling off the edge.

His breath came in time with the waves. In with the tide, out with the receding of the water. He focused on the rhythm. _In… out… In… out…_

It did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in his chest.

He had been dancing around it for weeks, every night he came out here and stared at the cold ocean. Every night he chickened out and dejectedly made his walk home to get through another day. Rinse, repeat. Nothing ever changed. It didn’t get better. And no one cared.

He turned to his side, where his journal sat, the pages fluttering in the breeze. It was his third journal this year. Pages and pages filled with stark black ink. Sometimes, pictures, but mostly words. His innermost thoughts and feelings made legible, readable, real.

Peeta stared at the words of his last entry. It was dated for tonight, timestamped for five minutes ago. A single sentence.

_I need a reason to exist._

He felt like a ghost, outside of time and space and attention. Silent and invisible, in this sleepy little beach town. He lived alone in the trailer park off the pier, in the trailer his parents had left him when they disappeared. It was the only good thing they had ever done in his life.

Each day he spent stuck in a rut, sliding by unnoticed. His head was full of static. But a person could only hold the void back for so long. Before they became nothing themselves.

_I need a reason to exist._

There was no way out. Except one.

 _Unless…_ A still, small voice whispered in the back of his mind. Hope, he realized.

 _No._ Peeta shook his head. Flipped through his journal until he found the page where he tallied every time he contemplated this.

It was full. He had to squint to see an individual line, else he’d go cross-eyed at the sheer amount of the marks.

This was the only way.

He just had to get up the courage to do it.

And what did it matter, anyway? He was alone. Except for the footprints in the sand he noticed every night as he made his way off the dock. At first he had thought they were his own, but they were too fresh. And too small. Nonetheless, he was a bit thankful for his shadow.

Another lonely soul roaming the beach at night.

 _Were they like him?_ he wondered. _Would they miss him when he was gone?_

Peeta looked back to his journal, picked up his pen, and added another tally mark.

He hoped not.

Because the guilt was the only thing keeping him alive, anyway.


End file.
